


Indecent

by Jules1980



Category: Murdoch Mysteries
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-22
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:56:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27145558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jules1980/pseuds/Jules1980
Summary: When Jean Hamilton discovers that a local 'Sports Club' is really a front for a house of ill-repute, she simply must have her favorite constable get it closed down for her.  After all, it is his sworn duty to protect the good people of Toronto from such heathenism as a brothel. Unfortunately, this time, her crusade will make George have to decide between his duty and his heart.
Relationships: George Crabtree/Original Female Character(s), Margaret Brackenreid/Thomas Brackenreid, William Murdoch/Julia Ogden
Comments: 6
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

George had a standing Monday lunch date at his Aunt Petunia’s lunch counter. He chose Mondays because he had Monday afternoons off. At least that’s what he told people. He really chose to visit Petunia on Mondays because that was the day that Poppy came into town for the weekly supplies for her Lakeview Sports Club. 

Also an orphan, Poppy had been raised at the rectory alongside him. Aunt Daisy had raised her as her own daughter, but at the same time, Poppy knew she’d come to Daisy as a two-year-old. Whenever she would question Aunt Daisy about her real mother, she’d share some superficial things, like her red hair, and how much she loved Poppy, but that she’d died when Poppy was a baby. As children, they never thought to question it, but as an adult, George couldn’t help but remember the way Aunt Daisy would look away and change the subject whenever the subject of how Poppy’s mother had died came up. 

In any case, she and George had been thick as thieves from three to sixteen. That was when he’d left Newfoundland for Toronto and to train for the Constabulary. He’d always assumed that she would marry or take up one of the trades their Aunts had perfected over the years.    


Aunt Daisy had an incredible head for business, Aunt Begonia could sew anything you could make or get a picture of, and they could all cook meals fit for a king. All skills they’d passed on to Poppy in the years she’d lived under their care. 

Except for childhood fantasy that her life was as easy as his, George wasn’t sure why he’d never considered that she might take up their main trade, but when she’d arrived in Toronto five years later with enough cash to open her ‘Gentlemen’s Sports Club’ and hire a staff to help her run it, he knew where the money had come from. 

He knew, but other than being a little sad that she hadn’t been able to chase the dreams she’d talked about when they were children, he didn’t judge. They’d picked up their friendship almost right where it had dropped off. 

Her club was truly that. A place where one could swim in the lake, rent rowboats, and fishing gear, or play tennis or snooker or darts, then get a good meal before heading home. However, if one had the means and knew the right way to ask, you would find that the staff was willing to do more than hand out fishing rods or point you to a changing area. 

Already being a Constable, George couldn’t properly visit her establishment, not during business hours anyway. Poppy ran a respectable house. If you didn’t know about the ‘extra’ services, you would never catch on that it was anything more than what she advertised it as. She had learned Aunt Daisy's lessons well and she didn’t want Constables there. Some of the women had negative run-ins with the law prior to the club and she meant for them to feel safe there.

But they would meet on the backside of her property and go fishing and swimming and met in town when their schedules allowed, but their Monday lunches with Aunt Petunia were his favorite.

Sitting side by side at Petunia’s lunch counter reminded him of sitting side by side at the counter in the rectory kitchen. He liked being able to touch that small piece of a more innocent time.

“Oh, put away your money, both of you,” Petunia scolded them as they finished their weekly meal. “We’re both more than capable of paying for our meals, Auntie,” Poppy said.

“And I am more than capable of feeding you two,” she answered. “Besides, it’s the one day a week that I know you are eating well. Especially you, that cook you have out there at the sports club…, All that fancy food will give you a belly ache. Too salty and rich.” She waved her hand dismissively.

“You can always come work for me,” Poppy replied.

“I’m too old for your kind of work, Dear,” Petunia replied.

“My cook is just a cook,” she grinned. “No one is forced to take on other responsibilities. Besides, you can just stay with me and live out your years by the lake or find some rich widower and be a lady of leisure.”

“Oh, go on with you,” Petunia laughed, stepping around the counter to hug them both. “My days of widowers, rich or otherwise are long over. You’ll see her back to her hotel safely won’t you, Georgie?”

“Of course, Aunt Petunia,” he replied, hugging her tightly. “See you next week?”   


“If you don’t, I’ll be forced to go to your station house looking for you,” she said. 

“Well, if you bring me some chocolate pie, you’ll definitely be welcome,” he grinned.

“Goodbye, Dears.” She gave them another round of hugs.

“Goodbye, Auntie,” Poppy replied, edging towards the door, hoping George could make a similar break for it.

* * *

“I do think her goodbyes get longer every week,” he laughed as they stepped out onto the sidewalk. 

“I thought you were never going to break away,” she grinned. “I was beginning to think you were going to have to chew a limb off to get away like an animal in a trap.”

“I do feel like she is trying to fatten us up for the slaughter sometimes.”

George reached for her hand but she deflected, raising her hand to reposition her hat. She knew it was just reflex. George was too well mannered not to offer his arm to a lady he was walking with, but he often seemed to forget that she wasn’t exactly the kind of girl he should be seen escorting through the streets of Toronto, especially still in his uniform. Her business wasn’t so far out of town that there weren’t those who could recognize her on King’s Street.

They talked about the weather and other pleasantries as they walked along the crowded street. Turning the last corner before her hotel, she suddenly grabbed his hand, pulling him into a secluded alcove.

The way she kissed him was practically indecent but always left him wanting more. Pulling away, she whispered, “Want to come to play, Georgie?”

Her eyes glittered mischievously as she awaited his answer. Yes, he did want to play. Very much so, but at the moment couldn’t make the words form from his brain to his mouth and just nodded, dumbstruck.

“Then catch me,” she grinned before ducking underneath his arm and running for the street.

He rolled his eyes and shook his head. He couldn’t very well go chasing her down a crowded street, still in his uniform. People would think she was in trouble at the very least. Taking a deep breath he followed her, not running, not quite walking either, just hoping that she was staying in the same room she always requested.

His hopes were rewarded when she opened the door after he’d barely had a chance to knock, pulling him inside, kissing him again.

“You never could catch me,” she sighed.

“I let you win,” he insisted. 

“Sure you did,” she smirked before leaning in to kiss him again, reaching for the buttons on his tunic. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter mentions implied sexual abuse of a minor. If that is a trigger, please don't read.

“It’s morning,” Poppy said, stretching.

“No,” he mumbled, tightening his arm around her waist. “Can’t we just stay here? It’s warm.”

“You want to call it a snow day and play hooky?” She laughed, nuzzling his neck.

“Can we?”

“Well, I can. Not sure how you would explain it to your Inspector though,” she smirked. 

“Not sure I’d want to try,” he replied. “Last time I took sick time, it was because I’d been nearly blown up and even then, I felt like I was just supposed to walk it off.”

“It was just a small explosion,” she teased, pushing back the covers. “Come on. I can’t get back in that dress without some help and I’m pretty sure it would be frowned up to ride back out to the lakeside in my knickers.”

“I’d have to arrest you for that,” he agreed. “Okay, I’m up.”

“You know,” he said, while he buttoned up the back of her dress. “There is a nice restaurant here at the hotel. We could eat breakfast before we leave. My treat.”

She smiled sadly. Growing up with their aunts the way he had, George didn’t see the stigma of being a prostitute or that not everyone just saw them as women trying to survive and as such couldn’t see how their relationship could never be more than it was. 

Maybe if they'd stayed in Newfoundland they could have been sweethearts. There things like your parentage and past weren't judged as harshly as they were in the city. 

Here there were more than a few higher-ups in the Constabulary who wouldn't look too kindly on one of their own courting a whore. Most were the same men who spent half their pay at the club on Saturday nights.

"I've got to get back. I left Amyrilla in charge last night. The last time I did that, she nearly started a riot over the mayor slipping a little whiskey to his own coffee from his own flask. I have to go see what fire she started this time and hope its not an actual fire," she replied. "But thanks anyway."

"Surely she wouldn't start an actual fire more than once," he said, considering it. "Actually, no, Amyrilla would do that. Why do you leave her in charge?"

"She follows my rules and takes great pleasure in enforcing them, even to the mayor," she grinned. "No one dares argue with her."

"No, I imagine not," he quipped. "I certainly wouldn't."

"Thank you, Love," she said, smoothing her dress out. She turned to face him, reaching up to caress his cheek. "You'd better go. Lunch next Monday?"

"Of course," he said. "My favorite day of the week."

She smiled, her eyes lighting up, "Goodbye, Georgie. Do be careful." 

"Always." He kissed her forehead before leaving.

Closing the door, she sat down on the bed. George had wanted to be a Constable since they were children and she was happy that he'd gotten his dreams but sometimes she wished they'd never left their small village in Newfoundland, where things were easier and no one cared.

* * *

"Crabtree! Higgins!"

"Oy," George rolled his eyes, catching Henry's arm and nodded to the two men speaking.

"Oh, great," Henry groaned. Usually, they tried to make it a point not to be on the north end off their beat when the Constables from station house five were at the south end of their beat where the two districts met. It usually wasn't hard. There were few shop girls at that end with all the factories for the men from station five to flirt, or worse, with.

Today they weren't so lucky.

"What do they want?" he muttered. Nothing good with that lot. There never was. 

"Best just get it over with," Henry replied.

"Can't be much with those two," he quipped

Martin and Travis were not the smartest lot. They were big and dumb and mean. Unfortunately, it seemed that was all it took to advance in station house five.

“What have you, fellows?” he asked as they crossed the street. “Busy day?”   


“Not too bad,” Martin answered. “Just a few pickpockets, some nuisance kids, and run a couple of doxies into the station but they’re probably on their way back to the docks by now. How about you?”

“Nothing too serious,” Henry answered. “Nothing worth the paperwork to arrest them, at least.”

“But you all don’t arrest your doxies, do you?”

“Not as a rule,” George answered. “Inspector Brackenried believes that if they aren’t causing a nuisance to anyone, then we shouldn’t cause one trying to arrest them.”

“No, you all just tip your hats to them,” Travis said.

“Well, Crabtree does more than tip his hat to them, I’d say,” Martin smirked.

“Just what are you getting at?” He asked, standing up straighter and lifting his chin.

“We saw you, yesterday, strolling down King’s Street in the company of  _ Poppy Montgomery.” _

“There were lots of people on the street yesterday,” he replied, trying to remain calm. Wherever this was headed, it wasn’t good.

“Yes, but only one known for being a toffer and that’s the one you followed into the King’s Hotel and didn’t come back out,” Martin said.

“Now, everyone knows that Miss Montgomery doesn’t  _ entertain _ clients anymore. She just runs the house. I’ve even seen her turn down the Lieutenant Governor and members of Parliament, so we are just wondering what it is that you have on her that makes you the exception to the rule,” Travis grinned.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” George insisted.

“Bloody hell you don’t,” Travis snapped. “You must have some great piece of dirt on her and you’re going to let us in on it so we can make similar arrangements or we’ll be forced to tell Inspector Brackenried and the great Detective Murdoch that their little pet Constable spends his nights taking advantage of a poor working girl.”

“If George says he doesn’t know what you’re talking about, then he doesn’t know,” Henry spoke up angrily. “And who do you think you are to try to blackmail one of us? You lot are so corrupt…”

“No, Henry, it’s okay,” George said, holding up a hand to stop him. “That they had nothing better to do than watch my movements yesterday but still didn’t see me leave the King’s Hotel speaks more to their abilities as Constables than it does about my whereabouts.” He turned back to the other two. “If you think you have something to report to my superiors, then I suggest that you do so. In the meantime, this conversation is over.” 

With that, he and Henry crossed the street and started back on their beat again. 

Henry was quiet for an hour, at least, but finally, he had to ask.

“Do you really know Poppy Montgomery?”

George sighed, “Yes. She was a foundling child like me and my Aunt Daisy raised her. We grew up together in Newfoundland.”

“So why didn’t you just tell them that she’s your cousin?” 

“Because she isn’t,” he replied. “Aunt Daisy is not my Aunt by blood and not her mother even if she was.”

“So you were with her yesterday?” Henry pressed.

“For a time. We both visited Aunt Petunia at her lunch counter, then I escorted her back to her hotel. That those two didn’t see me leave again is their problem,” he replied. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of his relationship with Poppy that he didn’t tell Henry the reason the others hadn’t seen him leave the hotel was that he’d left long after their shift was over, but that while he didn’t believe there to be anything inherently wrong with what they were doing, just that he’d always been taught not to kiss and tell.

“You’re just friends with her? You know she’s a madam right?” 

“Yes, we’re just friends,” he sighed again. That wasn’t his idea. He wanted more, but Poppy had drawn those lines firmly years ago and refused to even step over them for a breakfast much less for anything real. “And yes, I know she runs the Lakeside Club. I try not to judge people too harshly for what they do to survive. I can’t without wondering what would have happened to me if the Reverend hadn’t taken me and given me the advantages he did.”

* * *

"Good morning, Rilla," Poppy smiled, finding her cousin already at the stove, preparing lunch. "Do we have any tea ready? It's freezing out there."

"Strip off your overcoat and come sit by the stove while I start a pot," Amyrilla answered. 

"Thank you," she replied, putting her hat and coat away. She sat at the table.

"Here you go," Rilla said, putting a steaming cup in front of her, then leaned in close.

"Why are you sniffing me, Cousin dear?"

"Better question: why do you smell of Bay Rum and pomade?"

"That is none of your business," she blushed.

"Sure, and how is George?" Rilla grinned.

"He's doing just fine," she replied. "He was talking about some case they had that involved that pirate story Aunt Azalea used to tell us. Someone was murdered over the old treasure map? I admit I wasn’t listening very close."

"So, it was true?"

"George says it was, but he didn't actually see the whole map before it was thrown in the ocean," she shrugged.

"Where does he come up with this stuff?" Amyrilla laughed, again. "So the lady doctor is really gone?"

"I don't think she's got actually gone,” she replied. "But it is over. Something about another man and it just didn't work out. He didn't elaborate and I didn't push."

“Of course it didn't work out," Rilla started,

"Do not start this again," Poppy rolled her eyes. "George and I are just very good friends. We are just having fun."

“And does George know this is just for fun? Don’t look at me like that,” she scolded. “What your mother and her man did to you is what makes them bad people, not you and it’s high time you quit punishing yourself for it. That man has been crazy for you since we were all kids.”

“Be that as it may,” Poppy interrupted. “It hardly matters now. I am what I am and every copper in this town knows it. Being with me would just be an anchor around his neck. How many Constables do you know who are married to whores?”

“Does he get a say in this?”

“No. I get to say. I get to say what happens to me now. I’m content with my life, why change that?” she pointed at her chest.

Amyrilla let the subject drop with a shake of her head. “If you say so. You have two new girls waiting for you in the parlor, wanting a job.”

“What do you think of them?”

“The older one seems to have the experience but she’s mouthy, not sure how long you two will get along. The other, well, she looks like she just wandered in off the farm. I doubt she knows what she’s asking for,” she reported. 

“Very well, I’ll talk to them,” Poppy replied, setting her cup in the sink and going to the parlor.

“About time,” a woman about her own age popped up when she walked in. “Are you the Madam then?”

“I’m not a Madam,” Poppy answered. “I run the business. I’m Miss Poppy.”

“What’s the difference?”

“A Madam tells you who and when and where,” she answered. “No one here is ever forced to take a client that makes them uncomfortable.”

“I’ll be believing that when I see it.”

“What’s your name?”

“Delores Atkins,” the woman said.

“Well, Delores, why did you come here?” Poppy asked, folding her arms over her chest.

“I wasn’t making it on the docks. The girls there, they say if you want a house, this is the best one to work in, only high classed gentlemen allowed,” Delores replied.

“And do you want a job here?”

“I wouldn’t have made the walk out here if I didn’t.”

“Then I suggest you not accuse me of lying.” She turned to the young girl. “And you are?”

“Betsy,” she answered shyly. “Betsy Sill.”

“Why did you come here?”

“I just followed Delores. She looked like she knew where she was going,” Betsy answered.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Delores snapped.

Betsy eyed her critically, “I don’t know. You just looked like you’d know how to find a place like this.”

Poppy held up her hands, stopping the fight that was brewing.

“Here’s the deal. I happen to have a room available right now if you want it, Delores. We can give it a try, but if you work here, you follow my rules, both of you. No soliciting. We get enough business here without advertising it in town. No drinking. Mind your language. You’re a lady here. All clients go through me or Amyrilla in my absence. Five dollars for an hour. Two goes to the house, you get three and your tips are yours. No fighting, especially not over any man. We’re open six days a week. You’ll have Sundays and one other day off a week. If you don’t like the way I run things, you’re free to leave at any time, no contracts. Are you married?”

“No.”

“You have trouble with the law? How many times have you been pinched for prostitution?” she asked.

“A few times,” Delores answered. 

“Any outstanding fines?”

Delores nodded.

“Where at?”

“Station house four.”

Of course.

“And five,” she added shyly.

“If you want to work here, I’ll take care of them this time, but if you get picked up again, you’re out of here and on your own with them,” Poppy said, then called another woman. “Katherine, show Delores to Susan’s old room.” 

Katherine looked from one woman to the other, then shrugged, “Follow me.”

“What about me?” Betsy asked once they were gone. She was twisting her hatband in her hands and rocking on her heels.

Poppy motioned for her to have a seat on the settee, then sat beside her. “How old are you, Dear?”   


“Sixteen,” she answered, sitting up straighter.

“We’re not going to get anywhere if you start out by lying to me,” she answered.

“Yes, ma’am. I meant fifteen.”   


Poppy stared at her sharply and she crumbled a little.

“On my next birthday.”

“You’re fourteen?” 

“Yes ma’am,” she replied.

Poppy sighed, “You do know what we do here, don’t you?”

She nodded, “Entertaining. Men.”

“Go home, dear. You’re too young for this life,” Poppy said.

“I can’t. I don’t have a home. Not anymore,” she shook her head. “If you don’t let me work here, I don’t know what I’ll do. You don’t even have to pay me, just let me sleep here and eat a little dinner.”

“What happened?”

“Doesn’t matter,” she shook her head again. “I’m not going back so it can’t happen again.”

Poppy’s hand flew to her mouth as she began to understand. “Who was it?”

“My Ma’s new husband,” she ducked her head. “He figured what was in his house was his to take. I tried to tell my Ma, but she just said he was taking care of me and my little brothers and not to go making waves. I figured if I got to put up with that, I might as well be the one getting the money for it. So I ran away, but it wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. I had to run from some Constables and then I was just too scared to approach anyone.”

“Are your parents going to be looking for you?” Poppy put her arm around the girl.

“They’ll be happy for one less mouth to feed. Please let me stay here, Miss Poppy. I’ll do whatever you want and I won’t complain at all.”

Poppy could tell this was going to be a mistake, but her heart was breaking for the girl and she couldn’t turn her out. “Okay. But I won’t be making any fourteen-year-olds into prostitutes. Amyrilla and I could use someone to help out around here and run errands. I can pay you a little and we’ll find a place for you to sleep, meals too.”

“Oh, thank you! Thank you! Thank you!” Betsy hugged her.

“BUT, but,” she pushed her back. “You’re to stay away from the men. If anyone tries to mess with you, you tell Amyrilla or me. And if I catch you even talking about entertaining any time soon, you’ll be out of here on your rear.”   


“Yes, ma’am. Oh, thank you, ma’am. I was so scared I couldn’t even sleep on the street,” she said, hugging her again.

“Okay, okay,” Poppy couldn’t help hugging her back. “All that’s over with now if you behave. When did you last eat?”   


“I…, some lady gave me a donut yesterday morning at the bakery, she was going to throw it out, but I think she felt bad for me,” she answered. “I didn’t ask, she just offered when she brought out the old food to throw in the bin.”

“It’s okay. Go into the kitchen and tell Amyrilla I said to feed you, then a bath and some new clothes. These are horribly too small,” Poppy replied, looking at the threadbare dress the girl had on. “I’ll have some chores for you by the time you’re done.”   


“Yes, ma’am.” She stood up and looked around. 

“Down the hall, on the left,” Poppy instructed. “Eat your fill. No one goes hungry here.”

She had a sinking feeling as she watched the girl practically run down the hall. What had she gotten herself into?

\------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

The encounter with Martin and Travis had left George in a foul mood for the rest of the day and now he couldn’t put it out of his mind to get some sleep.

He knew he wasn’t taking advantage of Poppy in the way that Travis had implied. He wasn’t using his power as a constable to coerce her into bed with threats of arrest or ruin. He didn’t coerce her at all. Their physical relationship was consensual. 

But maybe there were other things to consider? He loved her, and while she’d made it clear she was never going to feel that deeply for him, she did care for him. And they had fun together. It wasn’t just the sex, though that was pretty amazing, it was laying in bed, talking for hours. It was seeing her with her hair down, clad only in his shirt and her stocking feet, laughing like she used to when they were kids. Sure, she was usually laughing at something he’d said about aliens or vampires, but it was beautiful nonetheless. It was waking up next to her, teasing each other about the day to come. It was letting himself enjoy their time to be together knowing that it wasn’t going to last. He knew that one day he’d find someone who loved him as deeply as he loved them, after all, hadn’t that been what he’d been trying to do with Emily all these months? And when he found that person, he’d be able to walk away from their affair, relatively unscathed while Poppy would never be able to do the same. It was sad, really, how men could do almost anything they pleased, save for a few of the worst crimes such as forcing themselves on a lady or murdering someone, and as long as they cleaned up their act at some point and became a productive citizen, everyone would see them as a decent fellow, but little old ladies could still be shamed for some youthful indiscretion, no matter how minor by someone whispering ‘remember when?’

Poppy would never be able to walk away from her youthful choices, no matter that they weren’t really  _ choices  _ at all. So maybe he shouldn’t be adding to those choices? Was he taking advantage of the situation by continuing to enjoy intimacy with her, knowing that she had way more to lose in the end than he did?

One could argue that her quiet affair with him would barely hold a flame to running a house of ill-repute or being a working girl, but that was hardly a reason to justify adding to the burden, was it? 

On the other hand, Poppy was a grown woman who knew her own mind, so who was he to try to protect her from the realities she knew better than he himself did? 

By the time he was able to fall asleep, the only real conclusion he’d come to was that right or wrong, the next time Poppy cocked her head to the side and smiled that smile at him, he’d find himself following her wherever she said to go because he did love her and if that was the only relationship he could have with her, he was going to cherish every minute of it as long as he could.

* * *

"Miss Poppy, are we going to keep playing our game tonight, or are you just going to give me the number it would take to get to take you upstairs and ravish you?" 

Poppy eyed the old man sitting on the settee, amused. "Now, Mr. Robins what would Mrs. Robins say if she heard you talking like that?"

"Don't you think the cat enjoys the break when the mouse goes to play in another house?" He grinned.

"Great analogy," she replied, wiping the fireplace mantle. "But you already know the answer. I'm not a working girl anymore. However, Mary Louise has taken a shine to you if you're wanting some company, you could ask her."

"No ma'am. Always go straight to the top," he teased. "You're the boss so you have to be the best. Ten dollars."

"Ten dollars for the best? You don't value quality very much," she replied. 

"You're right, my Dear. That was a weak offer. I apologize. Twenty dollars," he amended. " No, make that fifty dollars. How's that for valuing quality?"

"I'll pay you fifty dollars," the only other gentleman still in the room offered. 

She rolled her eyes. Roger Newsome. She couldn't stand him, a fake rich guy pretending to keep up the lifestyle since being cut off from Daddy's money. "You don't have fifty dollars, Newsome. You don't have five dollars. If you did, you'd be upstairs with whatever girl could stand you for an hour instead of down here annoying me."

"You tell him," Mr. Robins chuckled. "I like a sassy woman. Just for that, I'll see the first fifty and raise you another. One hundred dollars for one hour of your time."

Poppy smiled softly, walking over and putting her hand over his, "Take my advice, Mr. Robins, take that hundred dollars, pay for a carriage back home, take your lovely wife out for a nice breakfast in the morning, then take what's left and donate it to the local children's home. I promise you will have a much better time than you would from one hour with me. And you'll be surprised how much your wife will love you for it."

"Miss Poppy, you are an A-class lady. Never let anyone tell you any different," he replied, standing up and straightening his jacket. "I'll let you know how it worked next time I come in. Goodnight, my Dear."

"Goodnight."

“Well, Newsome, you’re the only one left,” Poppy said. “Find five dollars or head back to the city.”

“You know, Miss Montgomery, it really is off-putting how much you talk about money. It is a very vulgar subject for a lady to be preoccupied with,” he responded. 

“My preoccupation with money isn’t what most would consider my worst crime against being a lady,” she replied. “And this isn't Eaton’s. We don’t work on credit. Pay up, find a lady who can stand you, or wait for your chums on the porch. The sitting room is closed for the night.”

Poppy stared at him as if daring him to argue as he stood and grabbed his coat and hat. It was all well and good to make snide comments but he was a gentleman even if Poppy wasn’t a lady. He wasn’t going to risk his community standing over a common whore, especially one so well-liked by his current set of chums. 

“Miss Poppy,” Betsy said, coming out of the nearby dining room. “Why did you turn that man down? He offered you a hundred dollars. Did you think he wasn’t good for it like the other fellow?”

“No. If I took him up on an offer one night, he’d be good for it,” Poppy admitted, putting her arm across the girl’s shoulders. “Part of this job is knowing how to read people and knowing what they really want. Mr. Robins doesn’t want me to take him up on any of his offers. He just comes here to play snooker or cards with his friends. He’s very loyal to his wife. But, being a man, he can’t just tell the other men that he isn’t interested in spending an hour with a beautiful girl, so he came up with the ruse that he only accepts the ‘best’ and if I won’t accept his offers, then what is he to do?”

“Boys are dumb,” Betsy said, shaking her head. 

“They get better,” she laughed. “Let’s go find you a bed. I think I know the perfect bedroom for you.”

The small room had never been set up since it had a second door that opened into Poppy’s own room. She assumed it had been a nursery when the building had been a home. She’d left the room unused since it would have been hard for either or her, or the other woman using it, to have any privacy but it would work well for Betsy as she wasn’t going to be entertaining men and Poppy hadn’t entertained anyone in years.

“This door locks, and I expect you to lock the door when you retire for the night. The door into my room doesn’t lock, that’s the main reason this room is empty, but I promise I won’t come in without permission if you promise me the same thing of my room,” she said.

“Oh, yes, ma’am,” Betsy replied. “I wouldn’t dare go into your room without permission.”

“There is some furniture in storage that will work well in this room but you’ll need a mattress. We can go and order one tomorrow. I have to go into the city to pay Delores’ fines anyway. I’ll also buy you a set of decent clothes. I can’t have you going around in that.”

“Why are you being so nice to me, Ma’am? You’re treating me better than family,” Betsy asked.

“Girls like us have to take care of each other, Betsy, sometimes we’re all each other has. Remember that,” she answered. “Besides, this is charity. You’re going to earn it all.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am,” Betsy gushed again.


	4. Chapter 4

George didn’t find it odd that Poppy had come to the station house. People came to the station house to pay various fines all the time. He was, however, curious about the young girl shadowing her. He’d never seen her before and he knew Poppy would never allow someone that young to work at the club. The girl lifted her head and preened at every surface that would show her reflection and obviously new clothes. 

He followed her out when she left. “Miss Montgomery, might I have a word?”

She turned to see him and smiled, then turned back to the girl. She took a few coins out of her bag and handed them to her. “Go over to that cafe and order us some tea, Betsy. I’ll be there in a moment.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she replied, taking them and heading towards the small cafe.

Poppy followed him a few steps away. 

“I didn’t know you were going to be in town today,” he said.

“I hired a new lady. She had fines. I’d rather pay them than have constables show up looking for her,” she replied. “It’s kind of bad for business.”

“I suppose that’s true,” he conceded with a grin. “Who is the girl?”

“You mean Betsy?” she motioned to the cafe. “She showed up yesterday with the new lady, asking for a job.”

“As a…,”

She nodded, “Obviously I didn’t hire her for that.”

“No, of course not,” he agreed. "She seems awfully young for that line of work."

"I've seen younger," she replied, regretfully. "However not working for me. I gave her a job working in the kitchen with amyrilla and running errands and such."

"But what do you know about her?" he asked. "If she's that young, someone is probably looking for her."

"She says she is a runaway," Poppy answered. "But no one will be looking for her. Too many mouths to feed and all that."

"And you believe that?"

"Not that alone" she admitted hesitantly. Taking a deep breath, she continued, "She said her stepfather was interfering with her. Her mother told her to put up with it because he was taking care of the family. And I believe that. She was terrified when she was telling me. She begged me for a job saying I didn't even have to pay her, just give her a safe place to sleep and a little bit of food to eat. Georgie, I just couldn't turn her out like that. No telling what she would have done then.''

"No, I suppose not," he replied. It may have been a story just to garner sympathy but he wouldn't have been able to turn her away either, "What's her name? So I can check her story out."

"George!" she admonished.

"I'm just going to make sure no one is looking for her," he persisted. "I care about you, and Amyrilla, I don't want to see you all get caught up in a scam."

"Her name is Betsy Sill," She replied. "And the best that I can tell, she was trying to work around the docks. As scared as she was to be on her own, I'd have to guess that she lived near there too."

“Now was that so hard?” he asked.

“Goodbye, George,” she said, pointedly. “Let me know what you find out, okay?”

“Sure thing,” he replied, catching her arm as she turned to leave, pulling her back. Before she could protest, he wrapped his arm around her waist and kissed her. She wasn’t the only one who didn’t need to be protected from what the public might think.

“George!” She laughed pulling away.

“What?” He asked, feigning innocence.

“Goodbye, George,” She said again, shaking her head as she turned to go. She looked back at him once as she was walking away and shook her head again, but she was smiling, so he took that as a good sign.

“There you are, Betsy,” she said, entering the cafe. “Did you order some tea?”

“Yes ma’am,” she replied.

“Oh good, it’s still freezing out there,” she replied, taking a seat across from the girl.

“Is that copper your sweetheart?” Betsy asked, curiously.

“George? No, he’s just a very old, very good friend,” she said. 

“Well, he kisses you like he’s your sweetheart,” Betsy replied. 

“And how does a sweetheart kiss?” She asked, amused. 

“Like you have a choice in the matter.”

The answer was so correct that Poppy didn’t have a rebuttal for it.

* * *

“You there! Constable Crabtree!”

George rolled his eyes as Jean Hamilton strode towards his desk. What was she going to ask him to paint over today? Plastering on his best helpful look he got to his feet. 

“How can I help you, Mrs. Hamilton?”

“Well,” she exclaimed, taking the seat next to his desk so he sat down as well. “It has come to the attention of the Temperance league that the Lakeside Sports Club is really a…, a…, a…,” she dropped her voice to just above a whisper. “A house of ill-repute. You all have to shut it down.”

George paused, choosing his words carefully. “I understand, Mrs. Hamilton, but the Sports Club isn’t in the city. We don’t have jurisdiction over them. We can’t shut them down.”

“You can and you will,” she insisted. “Those places are only allowed in the district.”

“Yes ma’am, in the city, that’s true. But the Lakeside isn’t in the city limits and not subject to that statute,” he explained.

“I don’t care what jurisdiction they’re in. They’re drinking and all other manner of sinful things. It’s just awful,” she said, distressed and twisting her handbag handle around her hands. “You have to stop it, Constable Crabtree you just have to!”

“Okay, okay,” he found himself agreeing. He knew that there was no drinking allowed at the Sports Club but now didn’t seem like the time to bring it up. Mrs. Hamilton was nearly in hysterics. “I’ll talk to the Inspector about it and see what we can do.”

“See that you do,” Jean sniffed, standing up and straightening her coat. “I expect it to be shut down before another weekend passes.” She marched off in the direction she came.

“What did that old bat want?” Thomas asked, coming out of his office where he’d been hiding since he first heard her in the entryway

“She wants us to shut down the Lakeside Sports Club,” he answered.

“That’s not in our bloody jurisdiction,” he barked. “We can’t go out there.”

“That’s what I told her, but she said the Temperance League wants it closed down,” he replied.

“The Temperance League? What do they care? The lass that runs that place keeps a tight ship. She doesn’t allow drinking, or so I’ve heard,” Thomas said. “There’s never any trouble out of them. I can’t imagine what that lot is on about.”

“I’ve heard the same sir, but she was nearly in hysterics so I told her that I’d at least run it by you,” George said.

“Well, what did you go and do that for?” He barked again. “Now she’ll have Margaret all up in a tizzy about it and I’ll never hear the end of it. Best take Higgins and Jackson out there and see what’s going on. Stop whatever’s got that Temperance lot stirred up in its tracks before they get everyone worked up.”

“Yes, sir,” George sighed. Then added, “But sir, if we’re going to go around there asking questions, then maybe we should wait until tomorrow morning when they’re closed. So we don’t stumble into some clients we shouldn’t see out there?”

“Good point,” Thomas conceded knowing that Chief Constable Davis and his crew spent time out there and he wouldn’t put it past that group to do so while on the clock. “First thing in the morning then.”

“Yes, sir,” George replied, nodding.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Abuse mentioned and described.

“Mr. Hamilton, stop that! You’re hurting me!”

The furious whisper brought Poppy from her office to see one of her employees, a younger woman named Lila, being jerked around roughly by a client.

“Hey! The lady asked you to stop that,” she said. 

“She isn’t a lady, she’s a whore,” he snapped. “And I can do what I want.”

“Not in my house, you cannot,” she replied. “Let her go and get out.”

“Are you going to make me?” He challenged. “Get out of my way.”

He started to drag Lila up the stairs. Poppy stepped between them and tried to pull his hand off Lila's arm. He let go of her arm, jerking his arm back and striking Poppy across the cheek, causing her to stumble backward and fall.

Fortunately, the noise caught the attention of the men playing snooker in the next room.

“What’s this? What’s going on?” 

Poppy looked up to see Roger Newsome and one of his friends, she thought his name was Robert, standing in the doorway.

“Nothing serious,” Mr. Hamilton answered. “Just a little dispute. Mind your own business.”

“Let her go now, I say,” Robert spoke up. “Maybe tempers are getting a little too high. Why don’t you take a walk, Hamilton?”

Mr. Hamilton stared at the man for a moment, then let the woman go. “Perhaps you’re right, Bob.” He quickly made his way to the front of the hall to get his hat and coat, slamming the door as he left.

Once he was gone, Bob went back to the snooker game but Roger crossed the hall to help Poppy to her feet.

“Are you alright, Miss Montgomery?” He asked, concerned.

“Yes, thank you,” she replied, squeezing his hand, then going over to Lila. “Did he hurt you?”

“Not too bad, Miss Poppy. He was just jerking my arm around,” she said, rubbing her forearm.

“Get some ice for those bruises, then head upstairs and get some rest tonight,” Poppy replied, hugging her gently.

“Thank you,” Lila said, then headed to the kitchen.

“Thank you for your help, Mr. Newsome,” Poppy said, turning back to him. “But I have to know, why did Mr. Hamilton turn tail and run when your friend told him to?”

“Oh, well, Bob is a judge,” he answered. “Not someone a mediocre at best lawyer wants to have as an enemy.”

“No, I guess not,” she smiled, taking his arm. “Come with me.”

She led him to the parlor and motioned for Katherine to join them. Katherine liked Roger. She thought he could get annoying but she did seem to enjoy his version of annoying.

“Katherine, Mr. Newsome would like to spend some time with you, if that’s okay with you,” she said.

“Sure, you can tell me some more about that crazy family of yours,” Katherine smiled. “You know I love those stories about your sister’s latest schemes. Give me just a moment, okay?”

“Miss Poppy, what is this about?” Roger asked as Katherine disappeared for a moment. “You know I can’t pay and I didn’t do anything tonight that any decent gentleman wouldn’t have done. You don’t have to ‘reward’ me.”

“I’m not. I’ve heard what’s happening in Mimico and I know what it’s like to be the family outcast,” she replied, softly. “But don’t believe what they’re saying, Mr. Newsome. You aren’t unskilled. You may not be a cardiac surgeon or a healthy living guru, but you aren’t stupid. You have a skill. You have influence.”

He looked confused so she continued, “When you decide something is fun, others follow you. You started a car club and motor cars became all the rage in your circle. The same for your puzzle club. Now you’ve decided that snooker is the game of gentlemen and my club offers the best tables and my business for that has doubled. It’s a powerful tool. If you use it correctly, you could accomplish things your brother can only dream of. You’d make a great politician.”

“You think?” He asked, curiously. No one ever told him he was good at something.

“I do,” she smiled again. “And tonight isn’t a reward, it’s payment. You’ve brought quite a few big spenders to my club and that’s worth five dollars at least. As long as you don’t annoy me again.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he smiled, brightly. “Thank you. Not just for…, but for what you said too. I may just become a politician after all.”

“I’d vote for you,” Katherine said, joining them again. “Care to escort me upstairs?”

“Certainly,” Roger replied. “Good evening, Miss Poppy.”

She nodded and gave a little wave as they left.

* * *

“George!” Amyrilla greeted him with a hug when she opened the door. She ushered him inside, running her hands over the sleeves of his tunic. “Look at you! That uniform makes you look so handsome!” She hugged him again. 

“Just the uniform?” He grinned.

“I don’t see you enough to judge otherwise,” she shot back. 

“Well, you look beautiful anytime,” he answered before introducing her to Henry and Jackson. “Amyrilla is my Aunt Dahlia’s daughter. Rilla, this is Constables Higgins and Jackson. We need to speak with Po.., Miss Montgomery about a complaint.”

“She’s still in her room, but I’ll go get her,” Amyrilla replied. 

The Constables looked around awkwardly as they waited. Henry and Jackson had never been a place like that and George had only been there once, but it was before Poppy had bought the house and it had been empty. The furnishing made it look very different.

* * *

“Poppy?” Amyrilla knocked lightly on the door.

“Come in.” Poppy was sitting at her dressing table, looking at the bruise on her cheek. 

“That doesn’t look good,” Amyrilla said, taking her chin and turning her cheek to the light. “Why didn’t you call for Jamie?” Speaking of her husband and sometimes security for the club.

“I don’t know, it all happened so fast, I didn’t even think about that,” she said. 

“Mm-hmm,” Amyrilla scoffed. “Well, I have more good news for you. George and some other Constables are here. There’s been a complaint.”

“Why? We aren’t in the city,” she replied. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But they’re waiting for you in the foyer.”

Poppy sighed, looking at her reflection again. “Help me cover this up, please.”

“Why?” She demanded. “You know it was probably him that complained. Let them see what he did to you and what he did to Katherine, then they can go arrest him and leave us in peace.”

“Do you really want George thinking he has to take care of us like he does Penny?”

“First of all, you. He’d be taking care of you. I’m not the one getting into physical altercations with men and second, would that be such a bad thing? If you’d ever let someone help you, maybe you wouldn’t have gotten smacked last night,” Amyrilla answered. 

“Please?”

“Fine.” She picked up a grease stick and started to cover the bruise on Poppy’s cheek. “But if you ask me, I think you should let them take that bastard in for a night.”

“I know.”

* * *

“Hello, gentlemen,” Poppy said, coming down the stairs. “How can I help you?”

“Hi, Miss Montgomery, we need to talk to you about a complaint we’ve received at the station house,” George said. 

“What is that?”

“Well, that there has been a complaint of drinking,” he started.

“We do not sell or serve alcohol. However, we do not check our customers for flasks, if they get drunk, that is on them,” she replied. “It is very discouraged though and if caught, they are removed from the premises for the night. I can hardly see where that is cause for many complaints.”

“There were complaints of other… indecencies,” Henry spoke up.

“It is a whorehouse, Constable. I’m not sure how I could run it without committing at least a few indecencies,” she replied, flatly.

“Right.” Henry had the decency to blush.

“However, we do not serve alcohol and do not work with intoxicated clients, what they do when they leave my establishment is none of my business,” she replied. “Might I inquire as to who made these complaints?”

“Um…, We are not at liberty to say,” George replied.

“So they can go about, telling lies, trying to shut down my business but I can’t even know their name?”

“I’m afraid not,” he replied, rubbing his neck nervously.

“Well, it doesn’t matter if you all will tell me or not. I know that it was Oliver Hamilton. Bloody coward. He’s lucky…,” she trailed off.

George eyed her critically. “Why would you assume it was Mr. Hamilton?”

Poppy stood straight and lifted her chin. “None of your business as I am not in the city district, it is not the constabulary’s concern what happens out here. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a business to run.”

George knew she wasn’t going to say anymore. “Listen, Pop…, Miss Montgomery, we realize that you aren’t bound by city statutes, but we are just asking you to lie low for a few days. Make sure no one leaves drunk, things like that. You really don’t want this lot coming down on you.”

“We take care of our own,” she responded. “Good day, Constables.”

George shook his head. She was so stubborn. He knew the subject was closed.

“Thank you for your time,” he quipped. He motioned for the other Constables to leave. Henry looked disappointed, but Jackson looked relieved. He’d been quiet and uncomfortable through the whole call. George wasn’t surprised. Jackson could handle any barroom brawl or grisly murder scene without batting an eye, but women always made him nervous, especially if they might get upset.

* * *

George was having no luck finding Betsy’s family. He was beginning to think that the girl had just appeared in Toronto. Of course, not knowing her mother’s new married name made it even harder. He had given up for the night, stopping at a pub for some dinner before heading home.

“Are you the copper that’s been looking for my Betsy?” 

He eyed the large man now standing over him, trying to be intimidating. He put his drink down and leaned back in his chair. “I might be. Who is your Betsy?”

“Betsy McQuire, though she probably told you her name was Sill,” he replied, sitting down across the table without waiting for an invitation. 

“Where did she get the Sill?” He asked.

“That’s the no-good bastard that got her ma up the duff then ran out and got himself killed,” the man answered. “I've been the one picking up the bills since she was two. What's she done?" 

“Nothing,” George answered. “We just want to make sure nothing has been done to her.”

“She telling that one again? That figures. About once a year, she runs off and when she gets hungry, she finds some bleeding heart woman to tell I’ve been too rough on her. It’s your old lady this time, isn’t it?” he scoffed. “You just bring her back here. I’ll make sure she gets what’s coming to her and she won’t bother you and your missus anymore.”

George stood up, leaning over McQuire. “I told you, I’m just checking out a story we heard but if I ever hear that you g _ ave her, or any child, what's coming to them _ , I’ll make sure that you rot in the Don jail for the rest of your life.” He glared at him until the other man looked away. “Good evening, sir.”


	6. Chapter 6

“George, you do take me to the nicest places,” Poppy laughed, taking her hot dog from him. “You’ll quite spoil me.”

“It’s good, I promise,” he laughed in reply. “Come, let’s find a place to sit down and eat them.”

He wasn’t in his uniform and that did make Poppy relax a bit as they now looked like any other couple on the street. Still she led him to a set of steps off the main throughway. 

“Well, you’ll have to explain to Aunt Petunia why we decided to eat from a street vendor’s cart rather than go to her lunch counter today,” she replied, looking at the sausage doubtfully.

“I like to try new things,” he shrugged. “Like maybe you could come back to my apartment?”

“What about your landlady?” She asked. 

“She won’t know and if she does, she won’t say anything,” he replied. “She likes having an officer living in the building.”

“I think consorting with a prostitute might diminish some of the goodwill being a copper buys you.”

“Don’t worry so much. She won’t know your past unless you tell her.”

She just shook her head. Of course he could say that. He didn’t live her life or hear the things she heard. “So tell me what you found out about Betsy,” she changed the subject.

“What she says is mostly true,” he replied. “I didn’t see her mother, but I met the man who claims to be her stepfather. I couldn’t prove his story or hers, but seeing the type he was, I am more inclined to believe her version of events than his. Still, be careful, Poppy. That family doesn’t seem to be the type to see what you are doing as a kindness and not just meddling in their business.”

“Their business allowed a helpless fourteen year old girl to live on the streets rather than treat her with any human decency. In other words, I don’t care for their opinions of what I am doing,” she replied. “I have no pity for those who mistreat children.”

“Nor I,” he agreed. “However, I also do not want to see you harmed.”

“Now who is worrying too much?” She smirked. 

* * *

“George,” Poppy whispered, snuggling close to him. “Why is it freezing in here?”

“My landlady turns off the boiler at seven to force us all to get up and out of her hair for the day,” he yawned, pulling her closer.

“What if it’s your day off?” She laughed. 

“I wear my thermal underwear to bed and sleep in until nine when everyone else is gone and she turns the boiler back on. Or I find another way to stay warm,” he grinned.

“So that’s all I am?” She teased. “A less itchy way to keep warm?”

“My favorite way,” he shot back.

“Yeah? You’re not so bad at it either,” she replied. 

“So, um, I’m off this Saturday,” he began nervously.

“Gonna come see me at the Club?” She teased again.

“Well, I was hoping you’d take a day off. I have tickets for the Vaudeville,” he replied. “I know how much you enjoyed the show before.”

“George,” she sighed. “Don’t. Okay? Just don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t try to court me.” She got up and began to grab her clothes. 

He was quiet while she got dressed, but caught her hand before she could leave. 

“Is it that you just don’t care for me that way?” 

She bit her lip and looked away. “George, you are the dearest man I know and one of the very few I trust. You know that I love you but what you want, it just isn’t possible.”

“That’s not true,” he replied. “If we care about each other, we can make it work. Who cares about anything else?”

“You say that now and I know that you really believe that in this moment, but I was a prostitute, George. I run a whorehouse and everyone knows it. If you were to admit to a relationship with me, you’d be shunned by everyone you know,” she cried. “I’ll just become something you have to overcome to do all the things you want to do in your life. I can’t do that to you.”

“I don’t care what other people think, Poppy. I love you!” 

She put her hand on his cheek and for a moment, he thought she was going to agree, or maybe that was just what he wanted to see, as she pulled away. 

“Goodbye, George.”

He knew without asking that it wasn’t a good goodbye.

* * *

“Okay, Georgie,” Petunia said, taking a seat at the table with him. “How long are we going to pretend that Poppy is suddenly too busy to come into town and admit that she’s avoiding one of us?”

“I was hoping for a few more weeks,” he smiled sadly.

“What happened?”

“We just had a disagreement, Auntie, really it was nothing,” he deflected.

“Don’t try to pull the wool over my eyes, Son. You forget I am the one who pulled you two out of the hayloft all those years ago,” Petunia said, reaching out to pat his hand. “I’ve known you were sweet on that girl probably longer than you have. So now tell me what happened so that we can fix it.”

George sighed. He should have known she wouldn’t settle for a half truth. “I asked her to be my sweetheart. She refused and now she refuses to even see me.”

“I was afraid of that,” she replied, nodding. She brought her eyes up to meet his. “Don’t…,” she paused as if choosing her words carefully. “Don’t give up on her just yet, Georgie. She’s been through more than you know. Things that make it hard for her to trust.”

“Trust me?” He couldn’t help being hurt at the thought.

“Trust that she can be happy.”

* * *

“What in blazes is that racket?” Poppy asked, coming out of the kitchen. It had been a busy day and the night wasn’t looking to be much better.

“The Temperance League is protesting,” Jamie smirked.

“The Temperance…,” she trailed off confused. “But we don’t sell liquor.”

“Maybe they want to temper other vices too,” he shrugged.

“So, why haven’t you told them to get out of here?”

“Their boss lady wants to speak to my boss lady.”

“I have time for this nonsense,” she sighed. She straightened her dress and smoothed her hair down. Then strode out with Jamie on her heels. “May I help you?”

A thin, well dressed lady with dark hair spun on her heel to face Poppy.

“I am to assume you are the owner of this den of iniquity?” She demanded. 

“I like to think of it as more of a Sporting club,” Poppy replied with a smirk. “It sounds a little less sinful that way, don’t you think?”

“Call it what you like,” she sputtered. “I am here…, we are here to shut you and your immoral business down. It is a blight on our fair town.”

“And who are you?” Poppy asked.

“Jean Hamilton. President of the Toronto Temperance League,” Jean announced, holding her head high.

“Hamilton? As in Robert Hamilton?” Poppy asked.

“Yes,” she declared. “He is my husband and the lawyer for the Temperance League. Has he already been in contact with you?”

“In a manner of speaking,” she smirked again. “He keeps in close contact with my staff here. As for you, Mrs. Hamilton, you and your little band of moral superiority here have about three minutes to either pay your five dollars to spend the night with one of my girls, or you can leave.”

“We will continue to protest and call out those who would seek to spend their evenings here,” Jean replied. “If they have no more decency than to be here, the city should know about it.”

“You’ve been warned,” Poppy said, going back into the house.

Exactly three minutes later, she re-emerges with Bob Hamilton by the arm. “Mrs. Hamilton? Mrs. Hamilton? Since you all don’t want to listen to me, I thought your  _ lawyer _ could explain how you all are trespassing on private property and what all fines that can entail.” She then turned to Bob, patting him on the arm. “Don’t worry about your five dollars, Mr. Hamilton. I’m sure Susan will still be waiting for you when you are done. Or perhaps you would just like me to hold in credit for your next visit?”

She didn’t wait for an answer as she went back in the house, leaving him gaping on the porch.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
